Lina Villenave D'ornon Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Marseille

Thing is, *whore*—it’s a laugh, innit? Call a mate one, he’s fumin’, call yerself one, it’s irony, pure *carpe diem*. Gets me goat when prudes clutch pearls over it—lighten up, ya twits! Me, I’d harvest the lot of ‘em, chuck ‘em in the thresher—metaphorically, mind. Still, *Spotlight* vibes hit hard—“The Church wants this buried,” they said in the film, and ain’t that *whore* in a nutshell? Everyone’s hidin’ somethin’.

Then, I bumped into an old friend from high school. We hadn’t seen each other in ages! We started reminiscing about our wild days at the Lycée de Villenave-d'Ornon. Man, those were the days! We laughed about the time we got lost in the city and ended up at that weird statue on Place de la République.

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